Blood is the New Black
by QueenOfTheDream
Summary: In the Modern Nights, Kagome, an average college student, moves from Tokyo to San Diego to escape a droll life. However, after a fateful bump'n'grind session with a handsome stranger, she unwillingly gets sucked into a world she never imagined existed: the world of vampires and the whirlpool of the law and politics of the undead. AU, inspired by Vampire the Masquerade- Bloodlines.
1. The Good, The Bad, and The Undead

The dark red strobe lights threw a gyrating splatter of scarlet across the pulsing crowd. She looked up at the dark chandeliered ceiling, watching the crystals quiver with each pummeling hit of the rhythm. Even in her black stiletto boots, she was unable to see over the undulating top of the crowd. She didn't belong, was out of place; then again, that's what made her fit in here. Ghostly pale faces with black painted lips passed by, and an endless array of corsets, Lolita skirts, and trench coats paraded by. Leather, spandex, vinyl, plastic: all sweat-slicked and doused in the glow of the ever-changing kaleidoscope of the overhead lights. The cherry lollipop wedged between her teeth produced a sticky sweetness that coated her tongue. A plethora of people moving and pressing up against her: a pastie-covered breast here, a pleather-clad leg there, and hands… hands everywhere. The floor vibrated with the throbbing beat of a new song, and the thrumming ring of the bass traveled through her legs to rattle around the inside of her ribcage, igniting her veins. The reflections of the stained glass windows threw jagged colors haphazardly across the crowd. It was a menagerie. An all-you-can-eat buffet for the senses.

Of course, the tiny pink tablet she'd procured a couple hours earlier while waiting in line helped a bit.

"_Don't look, don't look, the shadows breathe."_ Don't look, huh? She was drunk on this sensation, greedily lapping up the sight of every strap-covered torso, every Lolita draped in clicking beads, every glittering eye barely reigning in the hunger, the animalistic lust that was so contagious on the dance floor.

The tiny leather miniskirt hugging her upper thighs slid against one body and another, and her ripped black tank top seemed smothering. As she lifted her lace-wrapped palms to raise the wavy sable curtain of hair off her slightly sweaty neck, she backed up and ground into whomever, whatever was behind her, curling her lip above the cherry lollipop with a glassy-eyed hunger. She was fairly surprised to find masculine arms winding themselves around her torso from behind her, long fingers ghosting over her electrified skin. Her breath quickened, and a sultry carmine-rimmed grin bloomed across her cheeks.

This… this was why she left Tokyo. Everything there, from department stores to classrooms, even the goth clubs and specialty groups, seemed dreadfully rigid and artificial to her. This was tangible. Though this entire club experience was a façade, it was at the same time concrete and brimming with a captivating passion that ebbed and swelled with the music, spreading over each person there. San Diego was so mutable, its people in a constant state of flux and livelihood.

She leaned backward into a hard, definitely male chest with a smirk, burying her fingers in the thick hair at her temples as she let her hips lazily gyrate against his pelvis. The dark stranger's leather-wrapped arms snaked around her ribcage, trapping her in a snare of delight, to barely caress her collarbone, sending tendrils of fire shooting down her abdomen. She responded by grabbing his hands, so cold and hard under her own, and guiding them to her breasts. A tiny groan fell from her lips at the touch, and he slowly slid one hand southward, still covered by her own small fingers.

"_Every night I scream your name,"_ a cool voice whispered the lyric in her ear with a husky gravel in his tone that made her shiver. A sinfully delicious tingle shimmied down her spine. Just as his hand reached the hem of her skirt, however, she playfully turned around in his grasp, looking up to the predator that had come to dine at her feast for the eyes as she grabbed the buckles that ran across the leather vest covering his muscled torso. Spectral champagne-colored eyes seemed to glow in the dark as they hungrily took in her fashionably disheveled look. Platinum hair- almost silver- took on the colors of the flickering strobe lights like a canvas.

Pulling the lollipop out from between her lips, leaving a sticky coating of sugar, she let it drop to the ground, forgotten. She worried a bit of her bottom lip between her teeth, looking up at the devilishly handsome stranger through her black lashes. One second later, she had her fingers twisted in the belt loop of his pants and was backing through the crowd, her eyes screaming, "Come get me, heartbreaker." He allowed himself to be led, tilting his finely-angled face up to look down at her with a smug sensuality. The crowd parted easily, leading them quickly to her destination.

It was a shaded alcove near the gigantic wooden double doors. It still held a statue of the Virgin Mary from the days when the joint used to be a church. She vaguely wondered what manner of sins and perversions old Mary had seen in her recent club days before she pulled her stranger into the space with her. Gazing up at him through her dark fringe of hair, she watched the tall man's face stretch into a wicked grin, and he bent to lap at the cherry-flavored residue upon her pout, his own lips cool and reminiscent of rain- her very own Aquarius. She grinned upon his mouth.

Her arms draped around his neck as his hands found purchase upon her slender hips, gently parting her legs with one knee. His kisses were deft and expertly placed, and the situation gained a degree of urgency as she fisted a hand in his hair, to which he replied by pushing her just roughly enough into the wall to jar her surprisingly. He bent his neck to lavish kisses and nips upon her collarbone, earning a mewling, "mmh." She could feel the beat of the music rumbling through the wall and into her back, feeding the throbbing that seemed to have taken over her body. Her breaths came in shallow pants, and her nimble fingers traveled low to find his belt buckle.

She was surprised, however, when the knee that so subtly parted her legs jerked upward and slightly slid forward, and she had to savagely bite her lip to muffle the keening sigh that bubbled up her throat. Her hair was sticking to her neck in curling tendrils, and her breath was becoming more ragged with each touch, each caress of sweet torture he was inflicting. Giving up on his belt buckle, she reached feverishly for the zipper of his vest, which she found under his left arm. With a playful giggle, she slid it down and hastily pulled her own tank top over her head while he removed the vest and uncaringly dropped it on the floor. His gaze rested upon her modestly-sized chest, which was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and almost heaving in anticipation. Not wanting to lose a moment, she swiftly bent over, sliding her lace thong down her thighs and laced-up boots before stepping out of it and flinging it behind him as she threw herself against his torso, fervently laying kisses upon his collarbone and neck and running her hands down his hard pectorals. He once again pinned her against the wall and ground against her, nothing between them but the leather skirt and some pants. Her red nails dug into his shoulder as she cried out, drowning in the sea of hazy emotion and grating tecno-beat. She hiked a leg up to rest upon his cool hip, nearly quivering with anticipation. He slid one knuckle down her slicked folds, and her head fell backward, a laughing smile splashed across her face as he resumed ravishing her neck. The last thing she saw was red lace draped over the head of the statue of Mary.

Before she even realized what was coming, his arms locked her in place, one hand firmly pressing into her shoulder blades, molding her to him and the other pinning her leg to his side. As fangs sunk into the sticky flesh of her neck, hot blood ran in rivulets down her skin. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, blissfully lost to unconsciousness as he lapped up the red ambrosia her heart couldn't help but pulse out for him.

…

When she awoke, she was lying upon a bare bed in a dimly-lit motel room almost in the last state of undress she remembered. Somehow, she was back in the tank top, and her hair was fanned out upon the sheet under her. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her faculties of logic and reasoning seemed to be impaired, as she simply could not figure out how she arrived there. All she knew was that a cold ball of anxiety had settled in her stomach. That is, until she espied her golden-eyed tormentor sitting in the armchair across the room, a red lace thong draped over one index finger. The look of indignation, shock, and primal fear that must have crossed her features apparently caused him great delight, as he chuckled lowly, tauntingly. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. There were lipstick smears still remaining on his jaw and collarbone.

She lay motionless upon the bed, frozen in utter terror and confusion. The predatory Adonis merely smirked at her, a Cheshire grin upon the face of a tiger. After a few seconds, she was able to swallow the thick knot in her throat. "Wh… where? How did I-"

"Are you that clueless, woman? Look around you. Can you hear it?"

She lay stock-still, straining her ears for any sound. Nothing. Her wide eyes stared, terrified and bewildered, at him, and she slowly brought herself to a sitting position on the edge of the sagging bed.

"Why, child, what happened to your heartbeat? It seems you misplaced it, or put it in the wrong hands," he stated mockingly.

Realization crashed around her ears. She heard nothing at all. No heartbeat, no breathing. Only the traffic outside and the ticking of the small clock by the bathroom and the loud thumping of the club a few blocks away and the whispering of the people downstairs and the steady pull of the ocean a few miles to the west-

Her hands flew to her ears as she cried out pitifully. She raised petrified eyes to search his face for answers, of which she received none.

"It will subside. Soon enough, you'll be able to hear what you want, when you want. Have you figured it out yet? Not quite the no strings attached hookup you were aiming for tonight?"

Her thoughts were frantically buzzing around her head. It was as if someone had taken all of her mental file cabinets and tipped them all upon the ground. Nothing made sense. Her bottom lip, still coated with the little remnants of her lipstick, began to tremble.

Palms flattened against her ears, fingers fisted in her hair, entreating eyes dripping tracks of tears, and the quivering lip made for quite a picture, and when she caught her reflection in the spotty mirror behind him, she nearly screamed. Where her average dark brown eyes sat in her average Japanese face, now sat two hyacinth-colored orbs swimming in a red tincture that spilled down her cheeks. Blood in her tears. She brought a hand to the left side of her neck, and to her dread, it came away with flecks of dry blood.

Out of nowhere, his head darted toward the door, features suddenly alert and very troubled. His short hair, which actually was silver, not bleached or platinum, fell into his eyes, and his eyebrows sank low upon his forehead. Before any words could leave her lips, he was prying the door open and clicking it shut behind him. She could hear his footsteps sprinting down the hallway. The first clear thought that came to her that night was pitiful and tore her heart in two.

"Mama."

By the time her brain registered that the door crashed open in the wake of two lightning-fast assailants, a crude wooden stake was driven into her chest by a hideously deformed creature she guessed was once human. Her eyes shot down to watch the blood surge out around the foreign object lodged in her sternum. Instead of screaming raggedly as she had deemed appropriate, her body decided to fall into unconsciousness.

And that was how Kagome Higurashi, college student and teaching assistant extraordinaire, was pitched head first into the world of vampires.

* * *

A/N: Whoa. The inspiration for this totally came outta left field. I don't know if I should make this a one-shot or a full-fledged fic. Opinions, people? :D

Sigh. I suppose this is what happens when you play Vampire the Masquerade-Bloodlines for too long: it gets in your head and fills you with nonsensical ideas for stories twisted in the VtM universe.

And snaps for me, this is my first fic set in the modern era!


	2. Swamped

Before her eyes opened, Kagome could smell the dust, the wood varnish, and the musty scent of old drywall. Overpowering that, however, was a gnawing hunger, a feeling like none other she had ever experienced. It set her gut aflame and strangled her lungs while wrapping an iron vice around her dry throat. It nearly engulfed any other sensations or thoughts, and all she could think about was the voice in her head that was wrapping black tendrils around her mind and whispering, "Feed."

Finally, she slid her eyes open and found herself kneeling in a lush drawing room with carved mahogany wall paneling. Facing her was an antique fireplace with intricate gilded paneling that glistened in the flickering candlelight that partially illuminated the room. A gathering of shadowed figures surrounded her and she discovered, attempting to think around the thick, insisting words echoing in her head, that her hands were bound behind her back with chains bolted to the floor.

From the doorway, she heard the velvety, cultured voice of a woman drawing near as her high heels clicked upon the old hardwood floor.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I hope this hasn't been too much of an inconvenience to you, but this is indeed a matter of grave importance." She came into Kagome's line of sight, half-illuminated by the burning candles perched around the room.

"You never can trust a statement that comes before the word 'but,'" came a low dulcet voice from one of the shadows in front of her.

"Normally, I would welcome your witty banter, Manners. Tonight, however, we must deal with a pressing manner. This childe presented before you has been created and abandoned without consultation or consideration of the law. Normally, that law would dictate that the Caitiff be executed, no?"

She stepped into the room, flicking a light switch which caused a yellowed, dusty overhead light fixture to flood the room with muted light. Kagome reflexively snapped her eyelids closed.

"Well yeah, but I think we should question her and see what she has to say. Who's to say her sire isn't just hiding out and waiting for her release? She might not be Caitiff after all," the grainy, brash voice of a male sounded from her immediate left. She opened her eyes and saw that the voice in question belonged to a very young man, perhaps having been seventeen years old at the time of his demise. While his skin held the apparent characteristic pallor of the dead, it retained a tinge of bronze that made him look ironically sunkissed. His expression was thoughtful and directed in front of him. Kagome followed his gaze to the woman she'd heard earlier.

This woman was the very picture of porcelain beauty: dainty, but hard and polished. "Yes, Braddock," her smooth voice slipped between smirking rouged lips, "but how do you propose we find this sire? He certainly will not be showing his face any time soon for breaking the Traditions so blatantly." She tilted her strong jaw up, sooty grey eyes looking through small, round spectacles at the seven men surrounding her.

Kagome's heart would have been racing if it wasn't rotting in her chest. The men all bore airs of regality and authority, the young "Braddock" ruffian included. One dipped into her vision unexpectedly, causing her to flinch in surprise.

"Ooh, but isn't she just a doll, Kikyou? Do you know where you are, Buttercup?" His voice was rich and saccharine, and his makeup-lined slanted eyes glittered with amusement.

"_Feed_," the voice in her head whispered insistently. The husky voice that tumbled from her lips barely sounded like her own. "No."

The man's tittering laugh echoed through the room. "You're in the Camarilla meeting hall, Babydoll- a bastion of Kindred law and justice that usually serves as an execution chamber. Do you know why you're here?"

"Liu. Are you Prince of this city? If so, feel free to continue," the unyielding female demanded authoritatively. She was met with a red-rimmed smirk. "You, Childe," she continued, turning her bespectacled gaze toward Kagome," are here because you have left your mortal shell, slipped out of the mortal coil, and fallen into the world of Kindred. Do you know who sired you?"

Kagome looked at Kikyou's patent leather heels as the voice in her head was growling. "I… I don't understand…" she faltered, turning her miserable gaze up to the hard woman.

Sigh. "You are a vampire, girl. A creature of the night." Kagome felt the instinctive urge to flee. She wanted to peel her skin off and run away, far away from these strangers and this eerie house. "Your sire, the one who made you, do you know who he was? What did he look like?" Kikyou prodded, striding around the room with one finger resting upon her bottom lip.

"I don't-"

"_Feed."_ It became increasingly difficult for her to form coherent sentences behind the curtain of wild hunger blanketing her senses.

"I'm not sure who... He was tall. Yellow eyes." She thought of that Adonis at the hotel with a roguish smile and wicked thoughts behind his eyes.

High heeled shoes stopped clicking upon the floor. "Yellow, you said? Perhaps golden?"

Kagome nodded, the voice in her head steadily rising in volume. "And he had silver hair, shaggy." Kikyou's demeanor quickly became darkened.

"Sesshomaru…" she mumbled, gazing pensively at a velvet armchair, and the other figures in the room collectively shifted in place. She abruptly turned and walked to the intricate stained glass window behind Kagome, and her voice was like a fan snapping closed. "What do we do now with this childe? I have called upon the council for a reason." All of the figures' eyes darted toward the window, some settling upon Kikyou and the rest upon Kagome, who felt like she was burning from the inside out.

An old man, his face wrinkled and marred, spoke first in Spanish-accented English. "I believe this childe should be put to death, as the law clearly states. She was unlawfully created and would become rogue Caitiff if left alone."

"Ah," interrupted Braddock, slinging his long black braid over one shoulder, "there have been provisions for adoption, though." A hush fell over the group.

The musical British voice from earlier, Manners, spoke up, and Kagome watched his hands form a steeple in front of his face. "Generally, that would take place if a childe's sire was killed or forced to relinquish guardianship. It is certainly not the case here." His dark green eyes rested upon Kagome, and there was something in his stare that frightened her. "_FEED,"_ the voice was shouting in her head, and her limbs began to tremble.

The tallest man spoke next, his voice smooth and soothing, a definite clash with his wild black hair and belt of knives slung around his waist. "As Prince, you could make the exception. She looks remarkably similar-"

Kikyou held up a small hand, still gazing at the colored glass. "I have thought about this extensively. Though it is breaking with custom, this fledgling will be spared upon one condition." She turned around and looked each of the seven men in the face. "I declare a blood hunt upon her sire, Sesshomaru, for breaking the Masquerade and violating Tradition. If any here among the Primogen object, let it be known." There was a dark chuckling from the large hulking man stuffed into the armchair next to the fireplace. A devious smile stretched across his mottled skin, revealing a mouth full of jagged teeth. "See to it that the word gets out to every Kindred in the city," Kikyou finished, effectively dismissing the men. They filed out the open door, leaving the two women alone.

Kikyou bent in front of Kagome. The words in her head were incomprehensible shrieking, and she felt the need to rip, to tear, to shred. After observing the restrained girl with a scrutinizing eye, she briskly walked to the other end of the room and opened a closet, out of which a sharply-dressed young woman stumbled, wild-eyed and panicked.

Before she could comprehend her actions or evaluate the situation, Kagome lunged at the girl, her arms ripping the chains from the floorboards to wrap around the supple, warm body. Teeth drove into the neck, eliciting an agonized scream from the victim that was strangled as Kagome's hands came up to grab the right shoulder and seize a fistful of red hair, pulling the head to the left with a sickening crack. Blood gushed from the wound like a fountain, spraying droplets upon the golden fireplace and antique wallpaper, and Kagome couldn't help but lap it up, savoring each gulp that slid down her throat to quench the raging hunger threatening to devour her alive. She could feel the heartbeat pounding, hear it singing in the blood, until it ground to a halt.

When Kagome regained her senses, she realized with horror that she was covered in blood. She dropped the brutalized corpse on the floor with a thud, hands flying to her face as a hysterical scream bubbled up in her throat. Kikyou cooly stated, "That was the Beast. It lives inside of all Kindred, all vampires. Do you understand?" She calmly unlocked the manacles around Kagome's shaking wrists.

Kagome turned horrified eyes to the cold woman, who was looking at her expectantly. Receiving no answer, Kikyou continued. "You now bear the curse of centuries, young one; a curse that your sire bestowed upon you carelessly and without permission. The punishment for that is death." She indifferently handed Kagome an embroidered handkerchief procured from the pocket of her navy blue blazer.

"You are a creature of the night. Be aware, for sunlight will send you to your Final Death quickly. Do not risk it. You will need to feed nightly upon human blood, the blood of the rich by the looks of it." She must have seen Kagome's dumbfounded expression, for she elaborated. "You are of the bloodline Ventrue, as am I. There seven bloodlines, or clans. Each clan has certain disciplines and aspects to their being that distinguishes them from the others. Members of clan Ventrue may only feed upon one type of kine, or human. Seeing you have yet to vomit, something about that girl must have done the trick. It could be the blood of the rich, the blood of beautiful women, the blood of the famous."

At "famous," Kagome's gaze darted down, afraid of what celebrity she had apparently savaged and murdered in cold blood. She felt her body go cold. Laying before her was one of the mayor's daughters. Her shocked eyes flew to Kikyou, who was nonchalantly fixing her long black hair into a tight bun at the back of her head.

"Not to worry, childe. The corpse will be disposed of in a fashion so as to not expose you or our kind. You must take care not to reveal yourself to the world of humans. If you do, the wrath of ages will fall upon all of our heads. You don't seem to be the sort of girl who wants to bring about the Apocalypse."

Kagome stared at her, handkerchief held limply between her fingers as her brain frantically searched for a logical explanation to what her life had become. She came up with nothing and found herself fervently wishing for a time machine.

Kikyou was walking out the door and into a hallway by the time Kagome came to her senses and jogged after her.

"…must block out all sunlight in your haven. If you wish, I'll make arrangements for a new haven if your current home is insufficient. Otherwise, go home and board up your windows before the sun comes up, and leave nothing to risk. I'll come to you at nightfall." Before she knew it, they had arrived at the foyer of the lavish building, Kikyou opening the door to reveal a taxi parked in the street.

"I bid you good evening, neonate. I will call upon you tomorrow," Kikyou stated, walking Kagome down the stairs to street level.

Before opening the taxi door, Kagome spun on her heel and held out her hand. "M-my name is Kagome Higurashi. Thank you for sparing my life or, I guess, unlife." Kikyou stared at the girl's bloodied outstretched hand and replied without animosity, "Good night, childe."

Kagome's taxi ride was shorter than expected, as the "Camarilla safehouse" was apparently close to East Village, where her apartment was located. After exiting the cab, she sprinted up the two flights of stairs to her door. Unlocking it with shaking hands, she slammed it behind her, satisfied with the loud finality of it and the darkness shrouding the room. The digital clock on her microwave read 4:27. She grabbed a pair of pajamas from her dresser and headed into the bathroom for a much needed shower. Undressing, she realized that she was still without underwear. That damned creep...

Satisfied that the blood was scrubbed free, she donned fresh clothing and practically sprinted around the small apartment, shutting all of the blinds and drawing the curtains over each. After bunching up a few towels and shoving them in the tiny bathroom window, she turned around, expecting total darkness. She was instead faced with Sesshomaru, a pale ghost in the dark oblivion that was now her apartment, her life. She jumped.

"That's not going to be enough, you know," he said, cocking his head to the side. Kagome's mouth flew open.

"B-b how did you get? Why? They called a blood hunt, whatever that-" She was effectively silenced when he placed a finger against her lips.

"That won't be a problem if you keep your mouth shut, now will it?" he patronizingly asked. He observed her astonished expression. Her mouth formed an "o", and her hands were frozen midair where they had flailed at his sudden appearance.

"What did Kikyou- the Prince- have to say?"

"Uhh… Well, there were seven men there. I was going to be executed for being Caitiff, whatever that is. Thanks for that, by the way."

"A meeting of the Primogen. I expected no less. The Primogen are usually the seven oldest vampires in the city, one from each clan of Kindred. Caitiff are clanless vampires without a sire and thus, are unlearned and likely to expose Kindred to humans. Typically, they're regarded as a scourge and a liability. They are usually thin-blooded, which means they're without vampiric or supernatural powers and unable to sire vampire childer of their own. Most Caitiff don't know their clan because they were abandoned by their sire. You, Kagome, were never going to be Caitiff." He ran a finger under her chin, and she pulled away as a cold shiver ran down her back.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded, dreadfully afraid that the answer had something to do with stalking or a closet full of dead lookalikes.

"I've been in here since they busted you in the hotel. You've got some nice pictures hanging up. Does your family still live in Tokyo?" His voice was mocking.

"That's none of your goddamned business!"

He held up his hands and walked out into the kitchen, where he sat in one of her cheap dining chairs. "Back to the question. What did the Prince have to say?"

Kagome shot him a venomous look. "I think she adopted me, whatever that means. I… I killed someone tonight. I sucked the blood right out of her and snapped her neck like it was a popsicle stick without even realizing it. I couldn't control my own body..." Her voice took on a hysteric edge, and Sesshomaru took her arm to guide her to the chair opposite his.

"Most everyone has a messy first feeding. That was the Beast. It's the rabid animal that lives in all of us; the personification of our inner predator if you will. If you go too long without feeding, your Beast takes over. No matter how well you keep it locked in its cage, how many corpses you feed it, it _will_ resurface eventually and you _will_ frenzy. You can bet your last dollar on that." He casually grabbed the newspaper on the table and opened it to the sports section, crossing one leg to rest his ankle upon his knee. Looking at him, one would have guessed he was speaking of the lineup for his favorite basketball team or of the stock market rather than the inevitability of a bloody massacre.

"She said she was coming back for me tomorrow night."

Golden eyes resurfaced over the edge of the paper. "Is that so?" He put it down. "Interesting indeed. She say why?"

She shook her head. "No, but maybe it has something to do with adopting me." she offered. Sesshomaru said nothing else, but instead got up, motioning for Kagome to do the same. He guided her to the bathroom and into the tub, where she turned around with confusion written plainly upon her face.

"Don't tell her that you saw me. You'll be executed for aiding a wanted criminal." He grabbed the door and yanked it cleanly off its hinges with a great ripping sound.

"Hey!-" she shouted, but was cut off as he leaned the door against the wall and kicked a hole clear through the bottom third of it, catching it before it clattered to the floor.

"Lay down. The sun's going to be coming up soon," he muttered as he broke the jagged shards off of the end of the wood. She quickly complied, balling up a towel for a makeshift pillow in the bottom of the bathtub. She felt like a little kid, staring innocently up at her parent, who held a nice, warm blanket and promises for tomorrow.

"Sweet dreams, little neonate. We'll talk more tomorrow," he whispered sarcastically and lowered the lid onto her makeshift coffin.

* * *

Whoa, guys. I've gotten some great feedback, especially on dokuga. Thanks for all your guys' support for this fic. I apologize for making this chapter so long and boring, but hey: this fic is not only about the trials and tribulations of the dead, but the political frame in which they function. Shooting for realism here. :D  
If anyone has any questions on any of the terms I've used, this site may be helpful to you: (dot com) /wiki/Category:Glossary

Quick rundown- Kindred= vampire, kine= human. There are seven clans, and each clan has a leader in the city called the Primogen. Kagome, Sesshomaru, and Kikyou are of the clan Ventrue. The Prince (regardless of gender) is kinda like the vampire mayor of the city, but isn't really elected and has much more power, such as the power of execution and excommunication. They often have their fingers in human politics as well. Let me know if you have any other questions! More will be revealed in the next chapters. You, the readers, are in the same shoes as Kagome, the vampire neonate. You gotta start learning somewhere.


	3. Things You Can Resist, Things You Cannot

Kagome awoke to a muffled rapping noise that echoed in the space around her. Usually, when one opens their eyes, they are accustomed to seeing sunlight or the comforts of their bedroom. Kagome, however, saw pitch blackness. A lance of panic jolted her awake, and she quickly sat up only to smack into something above her, which shifted with a loud clanging.

She then realized that she had been sleeping in her bathtub where Sesshomaru had left her. The knocking repeated itself, and she recognized that it was coming from her front door. Quickly scurrying over the rubble that used to be her bathroom door, she dashed toward the door.

Opening the door, she fully expected to see Kikyou in all her regal office-chic glory. Instead, she was faced with two small girls, both dressed in gold and black Indian Langa Voni. They looked around five years of age, and Kagome found herself staring at their otherworldly beauty. They looked like little statues, placid devis from a painted tile.

"The Prince is waiting for you outside," one girl spoke, and in a tone far more mature than Kagome had expected.

"I suggest a change in attire," the other one added. Kagome looked down, mortified to see that she was still in her polyester ducky pajamas. All she could do was stare open-mouthed, and the two girls turned to descend the staircase. She quickly reentered her apartment and donned a pair of jeans and a light three-quarter sleeve sweater before bolting back out the door, running her hands roughly through her hair.

Reaching the entrance of her building, she saw that waiting outside was none other than a black limousine. A goddamned stretch. Parked in front of her apartment. She felt horrendously underdressed, but couldn't very well go back upstairs and waste more of the Prince's time. She exited the building, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. When she reached the other side of the limo, she found that the two little Indian girls were waiting next to the open door.

"You may enter," the one with pigtails stated.

"The Prince awaits you," the other said, and Kagome saw with equal parts horror and fascination that she had little vampire fangs. Fixing her eyes upon the interior of the vehicle, she climbed in and sat down upon the lush maroon velvet seat. Across from her as promised, sat Kikyou, who regarded her coolly. The girls climbed in behind her and shut the door.

"Good evening, neonate. I trust you had a decent first night of rest." Kagome nodded without speaking, absently picking at the little pills on her green sweater.

"Do not worry. I will not keep you out too late tonight. I assume you have yet to feed and wish to tie up some loose ends in your mortal life."

"About that," Kagome started, hesitant and unsure where to begin. "What do I tell my mom?" She wondered if the little girls sitting next to the Prince had a mother, though, judging by their blank stares, she guessed not.

"I understand that it's probably hard for you, but you cannot retain contact with your family since it would risk breaking the Masquerade." Kagome stared dumbly. "I'll get to the Masquerade in a moment, but take this into consideration: How would you explain your ashy complexion? Your inability to consume mortal food? The fact that your mother will turn eighty and you will still look like a young adult?"

"How…?"

"Your mother will get a phone call from the San Diego forensics department tomorrow. Your apartment caught fire, and all of your belongings went up in flames. There was very little left of your body when they extinguished the flames. The forensics department will be unable to ship your remains back home due to the fact that they are being used in an ongoing investigation, let alone the international shipping laws that would need to be navigated. She will have no way of knowing that it is all a lie, I assure you."

"Isn't that a little overboard?" Kagome murmured. The thought of her mother getting that call tugged on her decomposed heartstrings.

Kikyou shook her head. "If there was another way, we would use it. We could fabricate a different accident if you are disapproving of fire."

Staring at her knees, Kagome shook her head. "What were you saying about a masquerade?" she quietly asked. They were headed downtown: the lights surrounding the limo grew increasingly brighter.

"Yes, the Masquerade. It's a façade that we all must maintain in the presence of humans. We must act, talk, walk like humans in order to avoid detection and exposure. If you break the Masquerade too many times, hunters will catch your scent and pursue you until the end of your days; that is, unless the Camarilla claims your life first. You are allowed four Masquerade violations in your new life. Upon the fifth infraction, you will be slated for execution."

"Camarilla?"

"The Camarilla is the government of vampires so to speak. All vampires are expected to abide by Camarilla law. Each city has its own vampiric government. There is the Prince, of which I hold the title in San Diego. The Prince's council is comprised of seven vampires, one representing the member clans of the Camarilla. These are known as the Primogen, and are usually the eldest of the vampires in the city, or the ones with the most influence and power. The seven clans are as follows: Ventrue, like you and I, Toreador, Brujah, Gangrel, Malkavian, Tremere, and lastly, the Nosferatu. Do you follow so far?"

Kagome nodded, twiddling her cold fingers.

"Clan Ventrue are historically the leaders of the Camarilla, and often possess a level head and logical way of thinking that makes them especially suited to leadership. The clan-specific powers of the Ventrue are Fortitude and Presence. Fortitude allows you to take extra damage to your vampiric body for a limited amount of time. Make no mistake, you are by no means impervious to bullets, but the use of Fortitude can come in… handy. Presence allows you to either attract or frighten those around you according to your wish, Kindred and kine alike. Each time you invoke these powers, it uses blood. Think of blood like calories. The more activities you perform, the higher your caloric intake must be to compensate. Do you understand?"

"Bullets?!" Kikyou seemingly ignored her alarm and continued on.

"Toreador are often star-quality types with an eye for beauty and enjoy the realms of poetry, art, and film. They also retain more of their human nature than most other vampires. Do not misunderstand, they are monsters like the rest of us. They simply blend in easier with human society.

"Clan Brujah are a very… passionate… sort. They are sometimes members of the Anarch movement, which opposes the Camarilla. It would be wise to stay away from these types, as they often have short lifespans.

"The Gangrel are in and out of the Camarilla, depending upon the day it seems. They are closest to their inner beast and make up some of the most fierce fighters in the Camarilla forces, though they are a solitary type." Kikyou paused, allowing Kagome to process the information.

Kagome shifted in her seat. "I think I follow. Please continue." If her stomach were still a functioning organ, it would be lightly rumbling.

"Clan Tremere is well-versed in sorcery and blood magic. They are some of our best philosophers and intellectuals. They are equal parts fascinating and awe-inspiring.

"I've never met a Malkavian without the Gift of Insight. They are often oracles and seers for our organization, as their vampiric curse allows them to see connections that nearly all others are unable to see.

"Lastly are the Nosferatu. They are perhaps the most damned of the damned, as they're cursed with a hideous appearance and twisted bodies. They must live underground to avoid breaking the Masquerade. However, they do an admirable job of keeping the population of rats under control in our sewers," Kikyou finished, an unsavory grimace upon her face.

Kagome nodded, letting all of the information soak in. "I think I've got it." She happened to look to her right, where upon the plush seat sat the day's newspaper. Splashed across the page, the headline, "BODY OF REBECCA PAIGE FOUND NEAR BOARDWALK, THROAT SLASHED," sat to mock her. Her crime had made the front page.

"It was set up to look like an abduction and murder. You need not fear being caught," Kikyou interjected, effectively making Kagome feel even worse. This crime would go unpunished, and her murder would go unsolved.

"Are there any… clans that aren't in this Camarilla?" Kagome asked, changing the subject. Kikyou nodded solemnly.

"There are seven clans in the Camarilla. Four clans are independent, meaning they owe loyalty to that clan and no organization. Two clans make up the Sabbat. Every evening, thank your lucky stars that you were not made one of them. They are vicious beasts and will not hesitate to kill you for merely existing. Stay away from them," Kikyou finished gravely as the limo came to a slow stop. The door opened, and they exited the vehicle, Kikyou nodding at the chauffeur. Kagome had to do a double take. The driver had short, silver hair and eyes the color of honey. Just like a certain person with whom she had recently acquainted…

She was ridiculously relieved, however, to discover that this man was indeed not Sesshomaru. He had fuller cheeks and a stronger jaw than her panty-thieving sire, but the resemblance was quite uncanny. He smiled politely, and she gave him one last lingering gaze before catching up to Kikyou, who was walking into a very tall swanky-looking building. When they entered the foyer, Kagome saw multitudes of people; very human people, all wearing some form of formal attire. Rather than stopping to indulge in the pointless chitchat the rich were so quick to instigate, Kikyou and the two children made a beeline towards the metal doors of an elevator. Kagome sheepishly followed, keeping her gaze upon the marble floor.

They stepped into the green-carpeted elevator, and Kikyou pressed the button for the twentieth floor, the highest floor in the building. "I own this building, so we are guaranteed privacy," Kikyou added, keeping her eyes upon the doors. "I've arranged for dinner tonight. I hope you hadn't any plans." All Kagome could do was shrug her shoulders and hope for the best.

When the elevator dinged, they were met with a single room that spanned nearly the entire floor. It was like an office combined with a small museum. Priceless paintings decorated the walls, and one wall was a set of floor to ceiling windows that presented the glittering lights of downtown. The Prince walked across the parquet floor, her heels clicking briskly, until she reached a gilded door. Turning the intricate handle, she led Kagome and her tiny retainers into a small intimate lounge. Two young women were waiting upon a red-upholstered sofa across the room. One smiled a maroon-lipped grin and sauntered toward Kikyou.

"My prey," Kikyou muttered under her breath, "is the blood of the vain and self-important. The other girl is for you…" Kagome nervously walked over to the couch and sat next to the second young woman. She was pale with dark brown hair. She was not particularly pretty, but clearly had money if the pearl necklace upon her throat and Prada bag at her feet was any indication. She looked at Kagome shyly. Kagome forced a tight-lipped smile to form upon her face.

And then, tired of the farce, she dove in for the neck, eliciting an, "Unngh," from the wealthy woman seated next to her. The woman clutched Kagome's shoulders and moaned, her heartbeat racing. Quickly enough, the woman was dead and slumped in the sofa next to Kagome, who was cradling her head in her hands. Another night, another murder it seemed.

Kikyou, still standing in the doorway with her jaws clamped upon the other woman's lower neck, looked at Kagome evenly, eventually allowing the body to fall limply into her arms, where she promptly dropped it to the floor.

"You don't like to play with them, I see. Very well. Esha, Neela: you may begin."

The two small girls who had been waiting so patiently behind Kikyou made a sudden dive for the body on the floor, their little mouths and hands biting and ripping and tearing at the freshly expired corpse. Kagome could do nothing but stare, mouth agape and eyes wide with shock. She could hear the flesh tearing, like ripping apart a raw steak, and she fought to keep her hands at her side. She could hear little tongues lapping at the meat, hear their little gullets opening and swallowing chunks of flesh with muffled squelches and slurps.

Sensing her revulsion, Kikyou elaborated. "Neela and Esha are Nagaraja. They are akin to vampires, but rather than drinking the vitae, or blood, of kine, they must consume the flesh. For that taboo, they are scorned and feared among the circles of the supernatural."

"You mean there are other things out there? Ones that aren't vampires?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, and probably many other things share the night with us. Your life has, in effect, become your worst childhood nightmares all wrapped up in one. Hmm, it seems that that girl did the trick for you. I believe it's the blood of the rich that calls out to your hunger…" she mused. Kagome simply watched the tiny undead monsters lick the blood from their petite fingers. They both looked up at her, red smeared across their plump cheeks and running down their chins.

"Come, come. I'll escort you back your haven. The night is still young, and I'd imagine you have much to think over." And that was that. They rode the elevator down, leaving their disaster behind. The car ride was silent and pensive, and when Kagome exited the limousine, she took the newspaper from the seat.

"I will come for you in the next few days," were the last words the Prince had said before Kagome slid the door closed.

She trudged up the stairs to her apartment and unlocked the door to find sheets of metal visible from behind her curtains. Of course, seated at her table was none other than Sesshomaru.

"Have a pleasant evening out with the Prince?" he enquired, nonchalantly picking at the invisible dirt under his nails.

"…'the hell did you do to my apartment? I'll never get the security deposit back now," Kagome whined as she moved the curtains back, revealing metal sheets actually bolted into the plaster of her walls.

"Hmm, losing your security deposit, or bursting into flame at the sun's touch. Tough choice, that one," Sesshomaru mused sarcastically. Kagome glared at him and tossed the paper onto her kitchen table as she walked into the kitchen to look into her small fridge out of habit.

"She talked about the Camarilla bloodlines today." Kagome felt like a petulant child telling her nosy parent of her day's happenings.

Sesshomaru chuckled. "Ohh, I'm sure she did. But did she tell you the important and pertinent information, I wonder?" Kagome cocked an eyebrow at him, but nonetheless sat down at the kitchen table after retrieving her laptop.

"How do you keep getting in here? Are you some sort of vagrant or something?"

"No, I recently acquired an apartment. Did she tell you that the Toreadors are usually quite a waste of space and do nothing but mill around humans, too lost in their own egocentric 'poetic sorrows' to do anything with their unlives but bask in the beauty that kine create? They can be useful occasionally, however."

"Well, what the heck are you doing here bugging me if you have a place?"

"You're my childe and thus, my responsibility, even if everyone thinks me gone. Did she tell you that the Gangrel are 'close to their inner beasts?' What a joke. They simply don't know how to keep it in check, so they run around howling at the moon, frenzying the second someone starts to piss them off."

"If you have your own place, why don't you go there instead of breaking and entering into mine?" Kagome opened her email to find a message from Iris Paige, sister to Rebecca Paige. Her body went cold…er. Did she know?

"I have to keep an eye on you, you know, and make sure that you're getting the full story, not the corporate Camarilla-sponsored half-truths that will get you killed. Malkavians are demented. Their so called 'gift of insight' comes from the voices in their heads, literally. Most of them are too far gone to make any sense. If you see anyone that isn't of the homeless population arguing with a stop sign, they're most likely Malkavian."

"If by 'recently acquired an apartment,' I hope you don't mean mine," Kagome drily remarked as she opened the message from Iris. They met during her freshman year of college, and Iris was the godsend that got her through that year, a foreign girl in a foreign country studying foreign materials.

'_Kagome,_

_I'm sorry I haven't talked to u in a while. Things have been so hectic with me, and I haven't even had time to take care of myself, let alone my social life. Sorry for dumping this on u, but I need to vent._

_They found Rebecca's body this morning by the boardwalk. Someone ripped her up, Kagome. Her throat was cut almost 180 degrees around. Idk what kind of monster could do that to someone, especially Becca. She was doing so well and had no enemies. U knew her. It was practically impossible for someone to dislike her. I don't get it, Kagome. Can we meet up for coffee some time? I need to talk to someone that isn't a reporter or my dad. Thx.'_

"Of course not. The apartment across from yours has been vacant for a few weeks. I checked. Nosferatu… I pity them, but that doesn't make me like them more. They're damn useful, though. You need information on anyone, anything, you get hooked up with a Nosferatu and they'll get you in. They've got networks, and nobody knows exactly how extensive they are. It unnerves me, how much they know and how quickly they know it. They're essentially traffickers in information and bribery and can be very dangerous if crossed."

Kagome forcefully shut her laptop, unable to respond to Iris. Iris didn't know… but she also didn't know that Kagome had recently joined the grand ol' "League of the Undead" either.

"Across the hall? They'll find you, especially if you keep coming around here. I don't really fancy getting my head chopped off over your stupid hide."

"Oh, little Kagome, how much you have yet to learn. The closer to your enemy you lay, the longer it takes for them to discover you. The Brujah have a good thing going, but they tend to take it overboard. Most of them are Anarchs, short for Anarchists. The Anarchs don't have anything against the Masquerade or most of the Traditions, but feel that the hierarchy and bureaucracy of the Camarilla are completely unnecessary. They never last long, though. The Camarilla makes sure of that, if you catch my meaning."

Kagome walked to her bedroom and put on her favorite light grey nightie. Her mom shipped it to her for her birthday three years back. While alive, it used to compliment her complexion prettily. Now, it practically camouflaged into her pale skin. She walked back out into the main room and plopped down in a chair.

"Anything else you want to add?" She rested her chin upon her right hand and gave Sesshomaru her most bored look.

"Ah, much, but I wouldn't want to overload that simple little head of yours. The last clan we'll go over tonight is the Tremere. They frankly put me on edge. They frighten everyone, rightfully so. They're highly secretive, and the little bits people uncover are enough to scare them away. Blood magic is their forte, and it's not pulling rabbits out of hats, I'll tell you that much. Avoid the Tremere if you can."

"Hmm, I'll do that," Kagome muttered absently, staring at the newspaper.

"Are you even listening?"

She hadn't even realized it until a red-tinged droplet fell from her eyelashes and onto her lap, staining the satin. She was weeping. "They're calling my mom tomorrow. About my 'death.'" Mama is going to be heartbroken. And Souta… the thought of her little brother caused another bead to tumble down her cheek.

"Ah," Sesshomaru said carefully. This was dangerous territory: territory of the emotions. When was the last time he'd experienced a feeling other than the thrill of the hunt?

"It had to happen eventually, you realize. It's better to get it done quickly. When these things are left too long, problems arise."

"What kind of problems?" Kagome scrubbed at her eyes, ashamed that she'd let her mask slip in front of him. After all, he was essentially a stranger.

"I think that tomorrow, we'll pay a visit to Charlie. Until then, start thinking of a new name. You will eventually need it, as one almost always encounters humans from their past at some point. No matter who they are, you will need to lie to them about your identity. You know this, yes?" He got up and walked to the door, presumably to walk the five feet to his own door. Neighbors these days...

"…Yes," she tonelessly answered.

* * *

Yaaaaassss. Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I hope you guys are starting to catch on to who some of the characters are. I'll tell you right now, all of the characters so far are canon characters (though I've had to change the names and ethnicities since this is set in San Diego, not Tokyo). Any OCs won't last long, e.g. Rebecca Paige, the mayor's daughter. Her and the two victims of today's chapter were the only OCs so far, if one can call them OCs.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews and reads. This is another kinda boring chapter, but is informational in nature and will shape how you and the characters in this story view the other characters. Does that make sense? XD


	4. If You Wanna Find Hell With Me

Kagome looked out the window in the hallway of her apartment building. The sky was tinged with red, as if someone had lit the world on fire. Curiously, she couldn't hear any noises from the normally busy traffic outside. Quirking an eyebrow at the oddity, she walked back into her apartment.

The second she turned to flip the light switch next to the door, she felt that something was wrong, so horribly wrong. Light flooded the room, and she tamped down a shrill scream that rose in her throat. Splashed on the walls, soaking the beige carpet, dripping from the kitchen counter, was blood. So much blood. She quickly rounded the corner to see a red-painted figure collapse, plummeting toward the floor.

Propelling herself forward, she messily caught them before they fell to the ground and lowered herself slowly into a crouched position. She turned the person around in her arms carefully, mindful of the multitude of wounds that marred the flesh and left the clothes hanging in tatters. What exactly was keeping this person together? It couldn't be much…

When she turned the figure over in her arms, she felt her world go cold. There, limp in her arms, was the body of her mother, whose tormented eyes bored into Kagome's skull. Her mouth opened and a stream of blood trickled out the side.

"Wh…what have you done, Kagome?" she whispered, and Kagome's body shook with terror. Who did this? How did she get here? Why, why , why?!

"Kagome, what have you done?!" her voice shrieked, the body convulsing in her arms. Her mother's hand reached up to grab her forearm, and she found that it actually hurt her. She looked down to see talons buried in the flesh of her arm, decayed and congealed blood oozing from the wounds.

"Mama! Stop, I-"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!"

Kagome awoke with a start, throwing the unnecessary blanket off of her legs and racing toward the front door. She shakily loosed the chain and bolted to the end of the hall, passing Sesshomaru, who was stooping to pick up the newspaper from his doormat. He stared after her.

"Who lit a fire under your ass?"

She completely ignored him and thrust her face into the window. The San Diego evening sky was dark blue, just as it was every other night, cloudy days notwithstanding. She hastily walked back down the hall to her door, shaking her head and muttering. She could practically feel her eyes bugging out of her head, but paid no heed to Sesshomaru, who was staring at her in apparent worry. After all, it wasn't every day that your neighbor completely lost their shit without provocation, especially when that neighbor was in danger of exposing the vampire community. A rogue, psychotic blood sucker was never a good thing.

She reached for the doorknob, but was yanked back when Sesshomaru grabbed her arm. "What's going on? What did you do?" His voice was firm and commanding.

She snatched her arm back and strode into her apartment, searching under the couch cushions and checking the sink, even sifting through the wreckage of her bathroom door strewn across the floor. Sesshomaru slowly followed, watching her with an apprehensive curiosity. She continued muttering, frantically tearing the towels out of the linen closet, her near-hysteria approaching a peak.

"Blood, blood everywhere," he heard her mutter.

"Do tell what blood you're talking of. Aside from the mess you've just made, the place is practically spotless," he commented, taking in her wild expression as she turned to face him.

"There was blood. It was all over the place and my mom- my mom!"

Sesshomaru grabbed both of her forearms and forcefully steered her to one of her dining room chairs.

"You just had a bad dream, kid. It happens to everyone. Now unless your family has magical teleportation powers that you neglected to tell me about, they're probably all still in Tokyo."

She was visibly shaken, but the fog of panic was beginning to clear from her thoughts. Sesshomaru stood nearby, picking up his dropped newspaper and unfolding it. "When you decide you're done with this little episode, get dressed. We're going to Charlie's today."

"Who is Charlie?"

"The sooner you get out of those pajamas, the sooner you'll find out." With that, he walked out the door, presumably to reenter his own apartment.

Kagome managed to pull herself together and stumble into the bedroom. She slipped on a Misfits tee and a pair of capris to find, to her delight, that the hair on her legs had not grown. Benefits to being undead so far: one. She looked in her small framed mirror hanging on the wall. Strange bright indigo eyes stared at their reflection, wishing, for once, for the plain dark brown that used to lay there. She shrugged and walked toward her front door, picking up the larger chunks of her door that lay in her bathroom. Upon walking out of her unit, she saw Sesshomaru waiting for her, unsurprisingly. He held out a business card, which Kagome clumsily took and maneuvered into her pocket before trudging down the stairs with her armful of what amounted to kindling. Before she reached the glass door, Sesshomaru spoke.

"I cannot go with you, not in the tax8. I wrote down her address, so just tell the driver and he'll get you there. I'll probably arrive before you, so don't keep me waiting."

"Wai-" Before she could even utter a whole word, Sesshomaru was out the door and out of sight. Just as she turned to dump the armload of door bits into the complex's dumpster, she saw a yellow cab pull up in front of the building. She quickly scrambled inside and read off the address scribbled on the back of the business card. The driver noiselessly nodded and began driving.

The silent man drove her to a large manor in Del Cerro. The Queen Anne revival style of the house was visually striking, not just for the intricacy of the classical style, but for the juxtaposition among the sharp, modernist beach houses that surrounded the place. After a moment of gawking out the cab window like a typical tourist, she handed the cab driver her bank card, only to have him hand it back. Declined. She sighed; apparently once one dies, new unlife or no, one's assets are frozen. She made a mental note to get back every penny in her now useless bank account from Sesshomaru, using whatever means necessary.

Apologizing profusely to the sunglass-bedecked driver, who sat in silent observation, she dug through her bag to scrounge up enough cash to pay the cab fare. With another sheepish apology, she exited the vehicle and wondered what to do. After all, who has strangers coming to their door in the late hours of the night? Just as she put one foot forward to start up the walkway to the house, she happened to spy something in the tree.

For once she gave thanks for her new undead life, for it gave her rather enhanced night vision. Perched upon the bough of a pear tree, his back against the trunk and a leg hanging casually down, was none other than Sesshomaru. He looked like a panther lounging; all relaxed and smooth except for those ever watchful predatory eyes that raced over her skin like fire and held the promise of destruction. He slid off the branch, landing with soft knees upon the well-manicured grass. With a grandiose flourish of his arms, he urged her toward the door. She pressed the small, glowing doorbell and waited. She could hear the bell echoing through the house, low and vaguely ominous in the still night around. Behind her, she could hear the steady pull of the sea and a chorus of crickets chirping.

No response.

"Do you feel hungry at all?" Sesshomaru casually asked, shoving his hands into his black bomber jacket and looking around aimlessly.

Come to think of it… "No, not really. Is that a bad thing?"

"No. Your first couple of nights, you have to have a lot of blood intake to make up for all of it that you lost during your Embrace. From now on, you'll most likely have to feed around once a week."

"Ah. Do you have any cash? I'm assuming I'll need to take the cab back, and my bank account is apparently frozen." She sent a withering glare at him. He pulled out a wallet and shoved forty dollars into her back pocket, causing her to hop forward in surprise at the intrusion of her personal space.

Kagome reached for the illuminated button once more, but just before she pressed the button, the carved wooden door opened in front of her and a very pale, very female person peeked around the edge, suspicious eyes darting between the two of them.

"What are you doing here," she whispered toward Sesshomaru, paying no heed to Kagome. He looked at her plainly and said nothing at all. Her tawny eyes narrowed, but she let the two of them in just the same.

She closed the door behind Kagome and, without saying anything, turned and walked through a doorway, Sesshomaru following her. She led them into an old sitting room. The walls were covered with peeling maroon floral wallpaper, and the furniture looked heavily dusty.

"This is Charlie. Charlie, this is my undoing."

Charlie turned around, one eyebrow raised, and sat upon a very old vintage green couch. Sesshomaru and Kagome followed suit on the matching loveseat across from her. She levelly gazed at the two sitting in her living room, and her lips were slightly pursed.

Sesshomaru leaned forward and rested his elbows upon his knees. "Charlie, I was wondering if you could perhaps inform young neonate Kagome here of the perils of keeping ties with family and friends after the Embrace. How is your dear brother, by the way?" His face was smug as a thief.

Charlie's expression darkened, and Kagome saw something akin to pain flash behind her eyes before the hard mask of careful indifference slipped back into place.

"What do I get out of this," the woman cautiously asked. Kagome looked around the room, trying unsuccessfully not to eavesdrop upon a conversation to which she was clearly not invited. She espied an old piano tucked into the corner, hidden by a black cover and a thick layer of dust.

Sesshomaru gave a soft snort. "The assurance that your little secret remains as such." Kagome looked back over to Charlie, who had pursed her lips even tighter. Her ears picked up on a barely-audible police siren that seemed to punctuate the silence.

"You know of the Masquerade, right?" It took Kagome a few seconds before she realized Charlie was speaking to her.

"Uhhh," was her intelligent answer.

Charlie's nostrils flared. "We don't have time for this shit, okay? I have things to do. Don't break the Masquerade. The Masquerade is a metaphor for our existence. We figuratively wear masks so kine don't discover us. That means no using most of your learned disciplines, no feeding in the open, and no juggling station wagons with your new strength. You follow me?"

Kagome nodded shyly. Sesshomaru leaned over, putting his lips near her ear. She almost shivered. "Charlie is a Gangrel. Don't test her patience." He pulled away with that irritating smirk he so liked to sport.

"If you keep in contact with your family," Charlie continued, crossing her arms across her chest, "you risk breaking the Masquerade. Imagine your family's horror when they discover their little cupcake's turned into a blood-sucking monster, condemned forever to lurking in the shadows of her past life. If they run to the press or even tell the neighbor, we're done for. You're hunted like a prize buck, and there's nothing that can end it save a sunrise or a shotgun blast to the back of the head."

"Shotgun?!" Kagome's mouth dropped. When did she sign up for gunfights?

Charlie nodded drolly, as if she were giving this lecture the fiftieth time over. An old grandmother clock tucked in the far corner chimed eleven 'o' clock. "The Society of Leopold, the main organization you need to worry about, pulls no punches when it comes to eradicating demons, vampires, and the like. They are always on the verge of discovering our true natures, so keeping to the Masquerade is especially important. The second they catch a whiff, they won't stop."

"Why, it sounds as if you speak from personal experience," Sesshomaru mused, his eyes twinkling with a twisted merriment. Charlie's hands balled into fists.

"My little brother," she faltered before settling her nerves once more. "My little brother was just a baby when I was… turned. My parents were dead, I was newly undead. I had to keep him safe." She got up and headed towards an old wooden staircase. "Follow me."

Kagome and Sesshomaru trailed after her until they reached the top landing of the stairs. Charlie silently crept down the hall to the second door on the right and opened the door, which creaked on its hinges.

"Sister?"

Kagome nearly jumped into the shadow behind the door. She hadn't expected to hear another voice, the crackly voice of a teenager. Charlie motioned them to come forward, much to Kagome's confusion. More insistent, she beckoned Kagome forward.

"Is it time to take my medicine? I'm not feeling well again," the young boy's voice sounded. Kagome saw that he was probably around fourteen, but the body reclining upon his bed had the frailty of an old man. His dull, grey eyes seemed to look straight through her as he swiveled his head toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

Charlie walked over to a small refrigerator that, strangely enough, had a digital number lock upon it. "Yup. Hold on just a sec." Kagome stood motionless in the door. She felt her face contort in horror at what Charlie pulled out of the refrigerator.

Blood. A sealed container of blood.

Followed by the blood was a can of tomato juice. Charlie walked over to the desk near the door and poured the tomato juice into a tall glass, maintaining eye contact with Kagome. She then carefully poured the entire four-ounce container of blood into the juice and stirred. Kagome was positively appalled and wanted to sprint away from this obvious lunatic.

Charlie walked back over to her brother, picked up his left arm, and placed the glass in his hand. "Here ya go, Blane. Make sure you go back to sleep after you're done. We'll see how you feel tomorrow, okay?" She smoothed his dark hair back from his forehead with a smile before turning to exit the room.

The second the trio reached the bottom of the stairs, Kagome whirled around and whispered, "What was that?!"

Before Charlie could answer, Sesshomaru cut in. "That, Kagome, was an exception." She scoffed at his usual enigmatic answer and looked to the woman standing next to her.

"Blane was born blind and was a very sickly kid. That's the only reason I'm able to do what I do. However, the others here in the city don't know about him. They'd see the both of us as a liability, despite the state of his health and his disabilities. I give him blood every few weeks to stabilize his condition."

"Blood?"

"God, you really are new at this. Vampire blood can be used in a process called ghouling. If you create a ghoul, you feed a human the blood of a vampire on a regular basis, which causes them to acquire longer life and sometimes powers such as increased strength or heightened senses. They remain human, and so pose a risk to the Masquerade in and of themselves."

Sesshomaru chimed in, "The Camarilla likes to make sure that ghouls don't remain so for long. They usually end up as half-informed new kindred or as corpses with concrete shoes."

Kagome sat back down upon the green loveseat as she processed the information. "What does this have to do with my family, though?" she asked. Charlie's long brown hair swished behind her as she returned to her place on the couch.

"I am under suspicion by the Society of Leopold," Charlie admitted. It all clicked in Kagome's head. Someone had leaked Charlie's secret, either about her brother or about her vampirism.

"I feel like you're leaving something out. I could be wrong, though. There just seems to be a tiny detail that we're missing here," Sesshomaru added, verbally prodding their host. She sighed heavily.

"My family… we were hunters. Members of the Society for who knows how long. Generations. I still do some side work for them, just small-time solo missions. Someone, somehow, picked up on what's happening here and sang to their superiors. I know I'm being watched like a goddamn hawk. It's only a matter of time before they start looking at Blane, too." Charlie looked at her lap, her features fixed into an expression of loathing. Kagome felt her heart ache for this girl. Sesshomaru pointedly tilted his head to the massive weapon hung upon the far wall, almost hidden in its case under a ridiculous layer of dirt and dust. She felt the strange urge to go up to it, to see if there was any blood coating the curved edge.

Sesshomaru, however, had other plans. "Well, we'll be leaving now. Also, don't tell anyone we were here. It would be a damned shame if something were to happen to your darling brother, no?" He got up, smoothing his jacket, and showed himself to the door. "Thank you, Charlie, and rest assured that I haven't and won't spill." Kagome bowed slightly with an apologetic smile, and scampered after her sire.

As they exited the house, she caught up with him. "What exactly was I supposed to learn from this?"

"The perils of dancing on the edge of recognition. If you had entertained any hopes of keeping contact with your family, I hope you see why it is too dangerous to risk, not only for your skin, but theirs as well. Their skin is far more delicate and bleed-y than your own," he said as he opened the door to the waiting taxi. She slid in, and when she turned to shut the door behind her, he was gone.

The cab ride back to her apartment was silent, and she stewed in equal parts contemplation, gut-gnawing worry, and intrigued curiosity.

When she climbed the stairs and reentered her home, Sesshomaru unsurprisingly reappeared from the shadows and followed. They both took their places at her cheap table in what was disturbingly becoming some sort of routine. Kagome finally slammed her palms down on the cluttered surface, sending papers and old candy wrappers flying before locking her knees and bending to hover in front of Sesshomaru's face.

"What the hell are you following me for? I don't even know you. What do you want with me?" she seethed at him.

"Touchy, touchy are we? So strange, I know everything about you." Sesshomaru leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table while perching his chin upon his folded hands. "Higurashi Kagome, 24, from Tokyo, Japan. Comes from a shrine family of priests and miko. Mother, Mayumi; brother, Souta; grandfather, Kiyoshi; father, Hiroshi, killed in a car accident in 1996-"

"STOP!" Kagome's eyes were brimming with blood-tinged tears and staring directly at her tormentor. Sesshomaru didn't flinch.

"I know all there is to know about you, Kagome."

"I KNOW! That's why it-it… It's just weird, okay? I don't know anything about you, but here you are, prancing around my living room like you own the place! You take over my home, my life, my very fucking existence! And I've never even seen you before four nights ago."

He waited until she had settled back down in her plastic chair, still seething. "I do not prance."

If looks could kill, he would be a jacket-wearing puddle of vampire sludge.

Golden eyes narrowed, and Sesshomaru leaned back in his seat. Kagome looked at him peevishly and opened the laptop in front of her. Dare she re-read that email from Iris? Tentatively, she logged into her email and surprisingly found one new message in her inbox. Her jaw went slack, and a bright, high droning rang through her ears as she felt her fingers go slack over the keyboard. The email was from one Souta Higurashi.

Sesshomaru cleared his throat, and Kagome looked up to see an almost roguish smile stretched across his face.

"Would you like to know about me, little neonate?"


End file.
